


cat and kid

by norio



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7555591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norio/pseuds/norio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma doesn't mind if Akaashi talks on his phone. After all, owning a cat like Bokuto-san must cause Akaashi a lot of difficulty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cat and kid

**Author's Note:**

> [for your viewing pleasure](https://vimeo.com/100553787) and, of course, source

The less I know about other people's affairs, the happier I am. I'm not interested in caring about people. I once worked with a guy for three years and never learned his name. Best friend I ever had.  
  
We still never talk sometimes.  
  
\- Ron Swanson, _Parks and Recreation_  


  


Kenma didn’t smoke, but he always visited the smoking room. 

In some wildly outrageous mix-up, the Company had built their designated smoking areas with the understanding that people were fishes. On most floors, the glass-walled smoking room sat squat against the bathrooms, and any courageous smoker had to brave the ogling of passing co-workers. Actual smokers used open windows, staring melodramatically into the setting sun.

But there was one smoking room on the fifteenth floor that had miraculously been built into the corner. Nobody passed through the dead-end corridor, so the glass walls didn’t bother Kenma. He just happened to share this corporate paradise with one other person: Akaashi Keiji, a stranger from the fifth floor. 

‘Ohoho,’ he could hear a tiny imaginary Kuroo chuckle. ‘So Kenma made a friend.’

No, tiny imaginary Kuroo. Kenma didn’t befriend his co-workers. He paid attention to them, of course. Someone had a birthday coming up, somebody else’s daughter had a sports event, his deskmate hated the smell of pickles. But as a rule, he kept his distance and vanquished dragons on his breaks.

If Kenma ever said, yes, let’s talk more, willingly to another person, that would be the day he’d eat his game. There was simply no need to talk so much. There would never be that need. 

He didn’t even know anything about Akaashi Keiji except that he was quiet. Akaashi would sit on the other end of the sofa and glance through his phone. Or he would take his laptop and polish off a few emails. Or he would simply sit on the couch, hands dangling in his lap, until his break was over and he quietly left the room. Sometimes, if Kenma grew too engrossed with his game, he only knew Akaashi had been in the room by glancing up at his receding back. 

Unlike Kenma, Akaashi didn’t seem unwilling to speak. Kenma’s stack of business cards had barely budged while Akaashi emptied his on a moderate basis. Akaashi’s voice was soft, but in the echoing chambers of the glass smoking room, Kenma could sometimes hear him speaking before he rounded the corner to the smoking room.

“What did Bokuto-san do this time?” he would hear.

The first time Akaashi took a phone call in the room, he had glanced apologetically at Kenma. 

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi said. “I’ll be sure to take the call elsewhere next time.”

“No,” Kenma mumbled, “I don’t mind.” And he didn’t. In fact, he was sympathetic towards Akaashi.

Owning a cat like Bokuto-san must cause Akaashi a lot of difficulty. Kenma didn’t want to push him out of the silent paradise for a pet owner’s dilemmas. And Akaashi always seemed to be busy with his cat, muttering softly into his phone.

“I apologize for bothering you like this. My business trip will take a week, and if you could just look into the apartment every now and then… Yes, I’ve marked the food for Bokuto-san. I’ve locked up any unsafe cabinets. His schedule should be on the refrigerator. Yes. Yes. Thank you.”

“No, please, don’t worry about it. Bokuto-san was simply excited about visitors. There’s no need for you to replace the plate. It’s not the first time he’s knocked something over. But do please visit another time.”

“Bokuto-san seems rather listless, so I’ve scheduled a check-up for him. He’s likely suffering the repercussions of sleeping so late into the morning, but it’s still better to be sure.”

After the tiring phone calls, Akaashi would rub his eyes or pinch the bridge of his nose. But sometimes Kenma would catch Akaashi flipping through pictures on his phone, eyes softening and hiding a gentler smile behind the palm of his mouth. Akaashi seemed like he would be a good fit for a cat. Akaashi was a Responsible Adult. He always dressed impeccably neat and left the break room precisely at the end of his break. Kenma wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility. He still tossed his socks onto the floor of his apartment and dumped all the dishes in the sink. Every time Kuroo visited, big real life Kuroo would gaze at him with knowing eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi said one day, after he yawned for the third time. “Bokuto-san has been more excited than usual lately.”

“It’s okay,” Kenma said with his headphones around his neck. The highly anticipated game in his hands turned out to be too easy for him, anyway. He already beat the boss and idly collected stray coins for the extra levels. 

“He destroys the curtains,” Akaashi mumbled into his hands. “And he unrolls all the toilet paper. When he makes a mess, he just shoves it under the couch. I found my broken glasses under there. He’s always asking for me to pet him. And he’s far too big to keep sleeping in my lap.”

“I’m sorry,” Kenma said, almost mechanically. Akaashi’s conversation seemed more like a rant, and Kenma was a helpless bystander. But Akaashi had bags under his eyes. The man needed this. Kenma would bear this burden with the best of his abilities. 

“He comes home late at night, too. I know he has his own schedule, but he always thinks he’s being sneaky when he clatters down the hall and into the bedroom.” Akaashi heaved another sigh into his hands.

“He sleeps in your bed?” Kenma ventured. Akaashi blinked, eyes averting to the glass walls. 

“Yes,” Akaashi said carefully.

“It must be tiring if he still wants to play around when he comes to bed,” Kenma said politely. 

Akaashi mumbled something about not really minding that part. 

Kenma knew the reason Akaashi was acting strangely, but Akaashi needn’t have feared. Kenma wasn’t the type of person who thought cats should strictly sleep in their own beds. He was a little surprised that Akaashi would let his cat sleep in his bed, sure, but he understood. A man who smiled at pictures of his cat surely had that fond weakness. Kenma himself often slept with his game console still in his hand, though that was mostly because he fell asleep playing a game. 

“It must be a lot of work,” Kenma said sympathetically after another one of Akaashi’s rare outbursts. He said it as sympathetically as he could while destroying all the other players in the latest AI VR PvP F2P MMORPG. He wouldn’t say he was really good at games. Just, sometimes people were very bad at them.

“Yes,” Akaashi said. “But he loves me. That’s all I can want.” 

His words sounded stainless and clinical, but Kenma always was good at reading people. Not extremely good, but good. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Akaashi rub his thumb and forefinger together. His finger curled and rested in the middle of his thumb, soft and affectionate. The muscles around his mouth slowly slanted upwards into a secret millimeter smile. Akaashi’s shoulders sunk into the old couch a little more and his stance loosened. It wasn’t like Kenma was super good at reading people, but even he could tell that Akaashi really loved his cat. 

Akaashi’s fondness for his cat was inspirational. Later that night, Kenma called Kuroo.

“I’ve decided,” Kenma said. “I’m going to adopt a virtual cat.”

“Kenma, I was asking about your dishes.” 

Kenma got the smoking room to himself for a quiet month while Akaashi left for an overseas vacation. Though Akaashi missed the workplace Pickleocalypse, he did return with a ring on his finger and apparently a small child. 

“I have overtime today, Koutarou,” Akaashi would murmur into his phone. “Yes. Yes, I’ll come pick you up when I’m done. Please don’t cause any trouble. No, I won’t bring any snacks.” 

“I know, Koutarou. I've always known Owl City is just a band. Please don’t cry. There should be some tissues in your bag. Go blow your nose.”

“The neighbors will complain if you run around the hallway too much. Why don’t you play in the park? There should be a court there. Yes, please bring someone with you. Go back inside before it gets dark. Yes. Yes. All right. I’ll buy something for dinner.”

It was nice to have Akaashi back in the quiet room, but Kenma was a bit surprised to see Akaashi becoming a Responsible Parent so early. When Kenma turned down his headphones, he could hear a vague rambunctious voice on the other end of Akaashi’s line.

“Yes,” Akaashi would say, flipping through the triplicate documents, obviously not paying attention. “Is that so. Yes. That’s amazing. Yes. Astonishing.” 

For a week, Kenma caught sight of Akaashi squinting at his laptop, looking at an online listing for an owl pillow. On Monday, Akaashi sat with his hands folded and forehead scrunched. On Tuesday, Akaashi leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. On Wednesday, Akaashi had pulled up three different images of owl pillows. On Thursday, Akaashi stared intensely into the owl pillow’s round comedic eyes.

“Koutarou’s birthday is coming up,” Akaashi finally said on Friday. “I know what he needs, but not what he wants. Is this—cute.” 

“I don’t know,” Kenma said. “But if it’s from you, I think he’ll appreciate it.” 

“I think so, too.” The lines on Akaashi’s forehead smoothed out, and then pinched again. “But is this—cute.”

Kenma had seen Akaashi sign over multimillion deals without breaking a sweat. For Akaashi to show this much anguish over a birthday present must mean he truly was a doting parent. But Akaashi needn’t have worried. In the following week, Kenma saw a crayon doodling of the owl pillow, twinkling with crude hearts, slipped into his documents. Young children could be fickle, but this one seemed easy to please.

It wasn’t like Akaashi talked about his child constantly. He was a reserved person whose desktop remained the default bland picture. But Kenma could tell when Akaashi was thinking about this Koutarou. Sometimes Akaashi would hiss out a thin, annoyed breath, barely a hitch, while he typed something on his phone. Other times, he would simply scroll up a long-winded text message, mouth hidden with his hand but eyes relaxed. Once, Kenma even caught Akaashi absently repackaging a small owl bobblehead. 

“I saw it on the way to work,” Akaashi murmured, glancing away. “He likes owls.” 

Kenma would have never guessed.

“You’re pretty amazing,” he observed, while finishing a seamless speed run of his game. 

“Really?” Akaashi tilted his head. The owl bobblehead followed suit. 

“You handle so many times at once. At work and at home.” Kenma finished the game, beating his old record. He let the game idle on the menu, fingers still hovering over the buttons.

“I see. I’ve never thought of it that way. You’re very observant.” Akaashi gave him a rare smile, which made Kenma feel good. Akaashi also made eye contact, which made Kenma dart his gaze to the carpet. It was an interesting carpet. Very bland.

“But,” Akaashi continued, “to me, I’m not really so amazing. I do what I can, a little at a time. Of course, Koutarou can be a handful. But he does what he can. He takes care of me in his own way, and gives me happiness and love. The little I do, it’s what I do in return.” 

Kenma nodded haltingly. He understood. It seemed a lot to weigh on a five-year-old child, but this Koutarou had obviously won his way into Akaashi’s heart. But maybe it was the way Akaashi glanced out of the room, fond and warm, that inspired something inside Kenma. 

“I’ve decided,” Kenma later told Kuroo over the phone, “I’m going to play a child-raising RPG.”

“Kenma, what about your laundry.”

In the end, Kenma began tossing his socks into the laundry basket and clearing his sink every week. It wasn’t much, he thought, but it was a start. What he could do, a little at a time. Besides, if Akaashi could be a Responsible Adult to his cat and a Responsible Parent to his child, then Kenma could eat a whole meal every now and then. 

For a few weeks, Akaashi didn’t talk about his child as much. Kenma didn’t pry, but Akaashi would sit on his breaks with a sad sort of quiet. He would check his phone constantly, or not at all. Sometimes he would stare blankly at the wall. Other times, he would gaze sadly at owl knickknacks that he picked up on the way to work, but left unwrapped in his pockets. It was at the end of the sad month when Kenma heard the startling gossip. His co-workers whispered behind the thin partition of the desks. 

“Ah ah, about Akaashi from the fifth floor, did you hear? Someone attacked him an hour ago.”

“No way, that’s a lie. He’s a good boss, isn’t he? Strict, but fair.”

“Get this, it was an outsider with a guest pass. This man just barreled out of the elevator. I saw it! He completely wrapped his big arms around Akaashi and tackled him to the ground. Even worse, that strange guy started squeezing him, too! Strangling him, I’m telling you!” 

“Really? How did a guy like that get a guest pass?”

“I think he knew Akaashi and had a big grudge against him. He kept calling Akaashi’s name, over and over again! Louder each time! It was scary. I thought he was going to take a bite out of Akaashi’s neck.” 

“Did security take him out?”

“No, Akaashi just said it was okay and took the guy out of the room. Listen, Akaashi’s face was really weird, too. I think the guy must have done something.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know, it was like… his mouth kept twitching up and his face was really red. It was strange. I hope he went to the infirmary or hospital after that shock.” 

Kenma didn’t really get to know people at his workplace. But he knew his deskmate hated pickles and one of his co-worker’s aunts had three cats and another co-worker had recurring dreams about boxes. Somehow, he had gotten along with them, and considered Akaashi his friend. He took his break and wandered up to their quiet break room, wondering if he should actually ask where Akaashi had gone and if he should follow to offer his sympathies. Before rounding the corner to the smoking room, he began hearing voices.

“Didn’t you miss me? I was gone at training camp for a month! A whole month! That’s almost two months!” 

“Now that you mention it, it might have been quieter around the apartment. I barely noticed.”

“I missed you! Every single day!" Rustling. "Hey, is there really a present in your briefcase?”

“Yes.”

“Really!” 

“No.”

“What! I’m gonna get mad!” 

“Will you forgive me if I give you a kiss?” 

Kenma rounded the corner to see his first work friend making out with a stranger. It wasn’t that bad, Kenma reasoned. Sure, the cool and composed Akaashi was practically in the stranger’s lap. And they were making out on his couch. But it was fine. Everything was fine. Kenma began to take a step backwards to completely retrace his steps to the elevator and forget that this sight had ever happened in the universe. Unfortunately, Akaashi noticed him in that second. 

“Oh. Kenma. I’m sorry.” Akaashi stood up, straightening his suit and opening the door. Forced by the constraints of societal pressure, Kenma wandered into the room. A man, maybe slightly older than Akaashi, stood up as well. His hair was still wild, apparently shocked from the hot and heavy make-out session. He grinned easily at Kenma. Akaashi nodded between them.

“Koutarou, this is Kozume Kenma, my colleague. Kenma, this is Bokuto Koutarou, my husband.” 

Kenma had finished murmuring his polite greetings when the pieces fell together. Bokuto Koutarou. Bokuto-san, the cat. Koutarou, the child. Bokuto Koutarou, the husband. 

Kenma stared at the man in front of him who swayed on his feet, glancing eagerly around the room. Bokuto didn’t meow. He didn’t appear to be age five, either. He was simply an Irresponsible Adult. A cascade of realization hit Kenma on all the things he had said with the understanding that the cat and child were both small and cute and separate. Things came together and fell apart. The month, the gifts, the ring, the phone calls. The way Akaashi spoke about Bokuto Koutarou, with a soft affectionate light in his eyes. Everything made sense. Everything made a horrible, horrible sense.

Finally, Kenma turned to look at Akaashi.

“I’m going to need some stomach medicine,” Kenma said. “And we should really talk more.”


End file.
